There was a silence.
The old clock in the corner chimed half-past eleven.
"This time to-morrow," thought Leo, "I shall be walking to my death." And with this reflection he thrust from him the old memories which had begun to weave a coil of softening sentiment about his soul. He would have liked to pour out the whole gamut of emotions surging within him, in curses on the head of this old man who had come to fight a desperate battle on behalf of his despicable little son's honour.
He placed himself in front of him with his legs apart and his hands in his pockets and laughed.
"Look at me," he shouted.
"I am looking at you," replied the pastor.
"How jolly mild you are to-day, old fellow. You bleat like a lamb instead of roaring like a lion. Now tell me, what do you see in my face?"
"Mockery and scorn," was the answer, "scorn of me and the Lord above us. That is all I see."
"Well, then, you don't see half. If you had the faintest conception of who it is stands before you here, you would hurry off as fast as your fat legs would permit. You come and talk to me about affairs of honour--to me, and I am little more already than a living corpse! You want me to singe a hole in your son's body, so that in a fortnight's time he'll be all right again, and able to swagger with renewed cocksureness--for that is what you are driving at with all these sugary entreaties; but no, my old friend, I am not to be got over with any such artifice--murder is in my heart. A cloud of blood hangs before my eyes. You, too, seem to be swimming in it, and the lamp and everything is red and dull from undiluted blood. Now you know what I am. And I will tell you what more I am going to be. A perjurer, a cowardly hound, sneaking out of the world in his thwarted lust and desperation. I have desecrated the hearth of my dearest friend with my unlawful passions, and I am going now to sprinkle it with blood rather than play the basest part of all towards him. Yes, I shall heap scandal on scandal, so that you will be ashamed, old man, that you ever knew me. And the fine wines that you have drunk under my roof will taste as bitter as gall in your remembrance. So tipple some more of it. Here goes! Your health; to your health, old priest!"
And he drank, drank the whole bottle empty, and dashed it into a corner.